


bedtime story (kairosclerosis)

by metamookiisle



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Antarctic Empire, Bedtime Stories, Cuddling, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No Angst, No Romance, Oneshot, Short & Sweet, Sleepyboisinc - Freeform, Toddlers, did i cry while writing this? perhaps, no beta we die like wilbur soot, sleepy :]], sleepy bois inc - Freeform, twins techbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metamookiisle/pseuds/metamookiisle
Summary: kairosclerosisn. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 247





	bedtime story (kairosclerosis)

Phil has had a long day. A long and stressful day. A day that has left him feeling weary and in need of comfort, stability and warmth.

His cloak flaps in the wind as he slowly trudges up to the entrance of his castle. The wind feels like it’s trying to eat him alive, to catch him and carry him into a cold blue lair to be devoured with a howl. It’s nothing Phil isn’t used to already, since he’s been living in the cold for years and years. Cold. _Cold._

(His castle isn’t cold.)

His castle is warm, and he can see bright light coming from inside the huge windows, their stained glass casting light on the ground and turning the white snow gold.

A sentinel at the top of the entrance towers spots him and shouts to lower the drawbridge. It creaks down, covered in frost, and lands with a _thump_ on the icy ground, a gigantic force sending bits of snow into the air. He waves to the sentinel on the top, and the sentinel waves back, hand barely visible among the white flurries in the air.

He crosses the frozen moat covered in a thick layer of transparent ice, stopping to watch bubbles from the drowned’s frozen, undead lips come up a couple times before remembering he has to go inside. When the double doors are pulled open for him, warm light and a gust of heat drawing him in like the sun, an attendant is waiting for him with their arm oustretched to hold the discarded layers that he wore outside.

The attendant greets him warmly— _warm,_ he thinks as the doors shut behind him with a loud noise. _it’s so warm inside. i like it._ —smiling, collecting his cloak, parka, scarf, and gloves. “Welcome back, Lord Philza! Did your mission go alright?”

Phil taps his hat over the carpet a couple times to get any snow off, then puts it back on, the green-and-white stripes comforting. He sighs and ruffles his wings a little, hoping to get any other things out that may have gotten blown and tangled in the wind. “Hello. It… went alright, yes, but it didn’t go exactly as planned.”

The attendant frowns, concern mixing their face. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, there’s some good news—we have some supper prepared for you! The twins have already eaten, and they’re almost ready for bed. Would you like dinner now or after they go to sleep?”

Phil muses over the question for a little. “I think I’ll have it later, thank you. For now, I’ll just get ready to see the boys and I’ll put them to bed.”

“Of course, it’s no problem!” says the attendant brightly, and walks away to hang Phil’s clothes to dry by the washing room furnace.

Phil waves at them and walks in the opposite direction to a long, long carpeted hallway, lit with chandeliers and candleholders just like in all the others. Dark oak decor, high ceilings, and dark blue carpet makes a familiar sight he knows and loves, cast in the yellow and orange flickering light of the candles. Warm.

He goes to his chambers first to change, which is across the hall from his boys’ room. 

_His boys._

He loves them with his whole heart, having adopted them two years ago when they were but small infants (well, not really _adopted_ … more like found in the middle of a forest with a note, abandoned and hungry. Now they are four and a half years old and the most important thing in his life.)

(He would give up so much just to be with them.)

He hangs his hat on a hook by the door. He goes back in his memories while he changes and sits by his fireplace, back turned to the coals so his wings dry. His green silk garments only add to the coziness and he almost dozes off by the fire waiting, exhausted from the day’s trials.

He wakes himself up with a cough and remembers that he needs to see the twins before they fall asleep. He’s been away all day; they didn’t like it when he wasn’t with them for so long. They did find ways to self-entertain, of course, but at the end of the day they always missed him.

He reaches into his wardrobe and takes out his thick grey knit sweater, donning it and carefully pulling it over his wings. He fiddles around a couple times and then opens the door.

He crosses the hallway, and before he opens the door to the twins’ room (covered in crayon and marker scribbles of crowns, swords, potatoes, whales, and something that looks like a guitar), he listens. He can hear faint laughing coming from inside, and he grins.

He opens the door and pokes his head inside to see Wilbur and Techno sitting on the four-poster bed, interacting with another attendant who is keeping them busy, playing some game of peekaboo with them so they don’t get worried about Phil. They’re already in their pajamas, clearly ready for bed. He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, and the twins’ heads turn to him.

“ _Papa!_ ” shrieks Wilbur once he notices him. He bounces on the bed excitedly, and Techno lets out small squeals of laughter as he’s launched into the air at the movement. They jump off the bed in a clamor and run to Phil.

Phil grins even wider and laughs at the sight of them toddling over to him as fast as they possibly can. He kneels to the ground to be able to hug them. “Hi, boys!”

They throw themselves into his outstretched arms. Luckily, they’re small enough for Phil to be able to embrace both of them, and he squeezes them tightly. “How was your day?” He asks, interested in what happened while he was gone. The attendant who’s in the room smiles and leaves, shutting the door softly behind herself.

Wilbur babbles incoherently about his day and all the things he did, detailing his adventures with many filler words like “um”, “and,” “so”, and “yeah” like a true toddler. Phil feels a tugging on his sweater and looks down to see Techno holding it in his tiny fist, pulling gently. He notices there’s small pout on his face.

“Aww, Techno, don’t look at me like that, you know I’ll always come back,” he coos to him.

“Missed you, Papa,” mumbles Techno, and buries his face into the grey fabric.

Phil screams internally, love for his boys filling him to the brim. Sometimes he wonders if he’s even able to handle it, the feeling burning his heart, searing emotions coursing through him at the sight of his adoptive sons. Sometimes warm tears threaten to fall down his face, ones of joy rather than sadness. Sometimes he just wants to be with them.

(He’d never turn them away.)

Phil goes back to comforting Techno, and Wilbur joins in on the _pouting because i missed papa_ bandwagon after rambling. It’s almost too much to see their watery eyes, the way their brown irises liquify like chocolate, simultaneously adorable and sad. They _are_ adorable—it’s hard to think otherwise, with their curly brown hair, pointed ears, and the fact that they’re just cute toddlers.

It’s something normal for them to do that, to just hug each other after a day. They’re a family, after all. But it’s also time for the twins to sleep.

Phil lets go of the two, pulling back to see their faces. “It’s bedtime, you know,” he says. They both let out a loud whine, dissatisfied with the little amount of time they had with their father, until Phil says the magic words:

“I’ll read you a bedtime story if you get in bed right now.”

(...The magic words are “bedtime story”.)

Their attitudes flip quickly and they giggle, letting go of Phil and climbing into the bed. Wilbur accidentally gets a bit stuck on the edge, leg hanging over the side, and Techno pulls him up.

“Techno, you’re so strong! You pulled your brother up!” Phil notes, complimenting Techno. The shorter twin always loves compliments. He puffs his small chest up with pride.

“Well, I am super strong. Super _super_ strong,” he says confidently.

Wilbur claps his hands together. “You are _so_ strong! You’re gonna have so many muscles when we get older!”

Phil chuckles at their interactions, knowing they get along quite well save for a couple little squabbles here and there. As they shift around and get comfortable in the voluminous blankets, Phil takes a book from the bookshelves in their room, one he knows they’ll like. It’s worn—the papers inside stained, the purple leather cover cracked in some places—but it’s worn now with years of love and care.

He turns around and walks over to the side of the bed. They’re squished a little close together, and Phil pretends to be offended, putting a hand on his chest and scoffing jokingly.

“Hey, leave some space for me in the middle!” he says. The twins laugh again, but when he climbs into the bed and sits up, they scoot over mindfully to allow him some space. When he’s settled in, they snuggle close into his sides, ready to listen to whatever story they’re reading this time.

“Which book is it this time, Papa?” Wilbur asks curiously.

“It’s _The Story Of The End King_ , Will,” Phil says. Techno lets out a little noise of excitement and Wilbur exclaims, “I love that one!”

“I know, that’s why I chose it!” Phil reaches to the side and boops Wilbur’s nose with his finger. He squirms away, giggling.

“Can we read already?” Techno whines. Phil chuckles again at the impatience, curling his wings to hold the twins within them. Techno wiggles around and settles himself deep into Phil’s sweater, draping the grey fabric around himself, then the blanket. He clutches onto the luxurious down comforters (they are luxurious. for End’s sake, he lives in a castle.) and announces with determination that he is so very ready for the story. Wilbur settles in similarly, and Phil begins.

“ _Once upon a time, deep in the inky blackness of space…_ ”

Throughout the story, the twins begin to yawn. Wilbur rubs his eyes, Techno goes a little limper. The candlelight provides a soft glow, casting fuzzy light across their tiny figures burrowed into the blankets like little moles in dirt.

When Phil finishes the book, turning its pages back to the beginning and shutting the cover (the crinkling noise quite pleasant, accompanying the wind outside like a symphony), the toddlers are fast asleep.

He doesn’t know which one to look at. Both are equally extremely adorable when asleep. The main issue he should be concerned with is how to get out of the bed without waking them back up again.

He decides on removing the twins from his sweater first, but they’re holding onto it so tight that he can’t get up with it—so he does the next thing he can think of and shrugs it off except for the part over the wings.

He turns to Wilbur and gently lifts him off his left wing, retracting it once he’s off of it so that it doesn’t hit him in his face.

Then it’s Techno’s turn, and he picks him up and does the same. Phil folds the grey-blue feather, leaves his sweater among the blankets and silently hops off the bed to the carpet on the floor.

When he turns back to the bed, the sight that greets him is one that he has seen before but will cherish every time he sees it. Wilbur and Techno are curled up in the blankets, tiny fists clutching the sweater he abandoned for the night. Their hair is a bit messy with sleep, brown curls laying on their face and on the pillows sprawled beneath their heads. Techno’s ear twitches twice and he mumbles something that sounds vaguely like “potatoes”.

In his sleep, Wilbur seems to notice that Phil isn’t there anymore. He shifts and tugs Techno close towards him, and their small limbs intertwine unconsciously under the comforters.

The kairosclerosis hits Phil like a train.

He tries not to cry.

Hey, maybe he’s had a rougher day than usual. They’re just so precious to him—he would do _anything_ to keep them as a family like this. He loves them. He loves them so much.

(Has it been said that he loves them enough?)

(Later, after he eats dinner, he comes back to check on them and blow the candles out. He watches them for a couple minutes, and that time he does cry.)

_His boys._

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it !! just something short i decided i could post. thanks for reading :]
> 
> i am in fact still working on the brownies saga and archipelago au !! i think when i finish the brownies saga ill post it all in one go, so be patient w me pls :"D
> 
> twitter: heymetamooki  
> ig: biquegg
> 
> ily drink some water :)


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